


Now This I Could Get Used To

by GwynDuLac



Category: Arthurian Mythology, Arthurian Mythology & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi, One Shot, POV First Person, Threesome - F/M/M, Wedding Night, but not actually crack, just a fun little thing, something approaching crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 17:39:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7767133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GwynDuLac/pseuds/GwynDuLac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Neither of us had heard the door or a footstep, but suddenly the King was there just behind Lancelot." </p><p>AKA Arthur catches Guinevere and Lancelot together on his and Guin's wedding night. The result is considerably more pleasant than she would have expected...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Now This I Could Get Used To

**Author's Note:**

> Well after haunting AO3 (and especially the Arthurian tags) for a couple of years I've finally decided to post something of my own. Since this is the first story I've put here this is something of a trial run (hence the use of a short and almost-but-not-quite-crack story). My apologies in advance for any bugs and formatting issues, I'll be trying to sort them out but we'll see how that goes....
> 
> Enjoy!

Three days ago when I was told that I was to marry I would not, by any stretch of the imagination, have thought that I would be impatient lying in my wedding bed, waiting for my husband. But that was before I had discovered that I was marrying the High King, Arthur Pendragon, or that he was as wonderful a man in real life as in the songs. Also before I had met Lancelot, but I pushed that thought firmly from my mind. Damn the man, he is so distracting. Where was I? Right, being impatient.

As the wedding feast was drawing to a close my new ladies-in-waiting had whisked me off, bathed me for the second time today, and pampered me for the better part of an hour before settling me in the large, soft bed in the King’s chambers. It felt like it had been another hour since then. Where could he be? It had taken long enough to get me out of my finery and ready for bed, but it couldn’t possibly take a man as long. Two hours? What could be keeping him? Some matter of state I supposed. I shifted restlessly, then smiled into the dark as I heard the door open. A moment later a masculine hand drew back the heavy curtain from around the bed, letting soft candle light spill in. But it wasn’t Arthur.

Lancelot stooped over me, gesturing for me not to make a sound. As if! “My lady - Your Majesty...I should not be here, I know...”

“I’m glad you’re here, my lord,” I whispered, and meant it in spite of everything. I was already smitten with King Arthur, for he was handsome and kind and treated me as though I was the most precious gift in the world, but the King’s Champion was darkly attractive and had set my heart to fluttering the first moment I laid eyes on him when he came to escort me to my marriage.

“Truly?” The word fell from his lips, so close to mine, like a sigh.

“Truly,” I replied, reaching up to touch his face. Lancelot pulled back sharply and we simply stared at each other for a moment. I was on the point of asking why he had come when the unthinkable happened.

Neither of us had heard the door or a footstep, but suddenly the King was there just behind Lancelot. By the time the Champion had registered the look of horror on my face, Arthur had his arm firmly around Lancelot’s neck in what looked to me like a strangle-hold. The Champion gasped quietly, his head going back against Arthur’s shoulder, his back arching slightly. “I could snap your neck right now,” said the King levelly. He was looking at me, though he spoke in his Champion’s ear. “You know I could.”

I half expected Lancelot to speak. Not to beg, but to say something to placate the King. Instead, I saw his hand move slowly to his waist and draw a dagger from his belt. With a deft gesture he flipped it around and pressed the tip into the King’s thigh. Arthur looked vaguely surprised for a moment, then he threw his head back and laughed, “Not fair!” And released the Champion. Simple as that.

Lancelot turned around, dagger disappearing from his hand as he did, and made to step around the King, presumably to leave, but Arthur caught his arm and held him in place, looking between the two of us as though realizing for the first time the undeniable attraction that crackled between Lancelot and I, but all he said was, “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Nowhere, Sire.” If I didn’t know better I would have sworn the Lancelot sounded almost insolent. Without another word he began unpinning Arthur’s cloak, then unlaced the heavily embroidered overtunic. From over the King’s shoulder my would-be lover looked at me and said with a rueful little smile, “You would not believe how long it takes to get out of formal wear.” A pause while he pulled the garment over Arthur’s head, then, “And since he refuses to keep a squire, I have lots of practise.” Was that a hint of humor in his tone?

“Thank you,” I said for lack of any other coherent words coming to mind. This was the sort of situation I would invent to occupy myself through a particularly boring afternoon of embroidery or during a more-pious-than-usual mass delivered by our incredibly stuffy priest back home. It was not something that was supposed to actually happen. Whatever it was that was happening, that is.

When the King stood in only his breeches and boots, he turned to Lancelot and said, “Here, let me give you a hand...” reaching for the clasps on the other man’s doublet before the Champion could protest. Doublet and cloak fell to the floor in short order, then, before either Lancelot or I knew quite what was happening, Arthur spun his Champion around and gave him a well-calculated shove. The Knight landed on the bed, his back pressing into my thighs warmly. “There,” said the King in a mock serious tone, “That’s where you wanted to be, isn’t it?”

I think I may have squeaked a little. Lancelot just smirked and replied, “Not quite.” That was when I realized that, for some reason as yet unfathomable to me, these two were perfectly alright with this situation, maybe even familiar with it. Having realized that, the last traces of my fear of being tried for treason vanished without a trace and I found myself grinning.

“Well this promises to be interesting,” I quipped, reaching out and touching Lancelot’s hair as I had longed to do for the past three days. With a slow smile Arthur stretched out on the bed beside me, fingers trailing sensuously down my bare arm. “I should hope so!” he breathed in my ear.

It _was_ interesting. Very interesting. And not at all unpleasant.

Sometime later, when we had recovered our breath and were lying amid the tangle of sheets, I finally had a moment to consider my situation. In three days I had gone from the daughter of a duke in the north woods to the High Queen of Britain, outranking everyone save King Arthur himself. At that exact moment I was lying between the two most attractive and sought after men in the realm. With a self-satisfied little smirk I tucked my hands comfortably beneath my head. “Now this I could get used to.”


End file.
